Sometimes a Spanking is just a Spanking

Like the apocryphal saying attributed to Freud: “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.” Sometimes a spanking is just a spanking. I don’t mean “just” as an adverb in the sense of “by a very small amount” like just a spanking as opposed to a whipping; I mean it as an adverb 1. “neither more nor less than; exactly.” It is just a spanking, nothing more, nothing less not foreplay, not a prelude to sex, just a punishment.


Such was the case last night. I’d misbehaved. Done things I knew I wasn't supposed to, things I knew would get me punished should I be caught and caught I was. We discussed it - I tried to minimize the behavior because that’s what I do but I didn’t, wouldn’t lie. I don’t lie to him ever. Wheedle, cajole, negotiate? Yes, yes and yes. But never lie. All my efforts fell on deaf ears. I was wrong, we both knew it and we both understood what that meant. He told me to go upstairs; I nodded. He added, unnecessarily, I think he just likes to hear himself say it, that I should "strip to a t-shirt and panties." This has become my punishment uniform since I can crawl right under the covers when the punishment is over. To complete his needless instructions he added that I should wait for him with "my nose in the corner." He was, rightfully, pretty annoyed with me and I knew I would have a substantial wait, he won’t punish me while he’s angry, so I decided to take a quick shower wagering that my bottom would dry before the spanking began. I stripped, showered quickly so he wouldn’t think I was stalling, dried as thoroughly as I could and got dressed. I put on a pair of white cotton panties that covered my bottom but were cut high in the hip elongating my leg and topped them with a pink T-shirt that came to my waist. I brushed out my hair, scowled at my brush for what it’s next function would be, drew a deep breath and headed for the corner. Just next to me, barely visible in my peripheral vision was a wooden,arm less straight backed chair. It is made of real wood, not plywood or press board. It was heavy and substantial and though I sometimes sat and read in it tonight it would be serving the purpose for which it was purchased. It was strong enough to support two people or whatever portion of my weight actually went through the chair while I was positioned over his knee. Our bedroom is on the second floor of our two story home. The corner I was sentenced to is just next to a window that starts at about my shoulder and goes up 36”. The lights were on and though I doubted the neighbor just across the street could see, since their line of sight would be directly into our room, I wondered about someone driving, or walking up the block. Could they see the back of my head? Would they just catch a glimpse or would they slow and watch? There would really be only one explanation of what I was doing? What else? Checking the paint job? Looking for cobwebs? A woman standing stock still with her face buried in a corner for 15, 20, 30 minutes and more could only be there as chastisement. Right? Would that thought even enter a ‘normal’ person’s mind? That a 35 year old professional woman was standing in the corner due to some peccadillo? If they did think that was it because they were subjected or subjected someone else to a similar punishment? Were we not the only couple who maintained the good order and discipline of our home in this fashion? How did I feel if someone did see me and deduce I was being punished? Embarrassed? Yes. Excited? A little. For me the corner time is a punishment in and of itself - not a prelude or epilogue to my punishment. I hate it. He knows this. I distracted myself by imagining various neighbors observing me and correctly concluding why I was standing as I was. I tried to guess their reactions. Pretty, preppy Andrea would be aghast that I allowed myself to be subjected to such humiliation. Big Bob down the block would chuckle and wonder if he should try it with Debbie, his attractive but moody wife. Emily, the wild child of the block married to Jim the accountant, would probably dig it. She flirted with everyone, male or female. I think she would have rather enjoyed spanking or being spanked by me. Jim should try it sometimes for the antics she’s pulled at various neighborhood functions. I actually found myself smiling at some of the imagined responses until I heard his footsteps on the stairs. I straightened up reflexively and tried to pull the hem of the shirt down to cover my butt. No matter how intimate you’ve been with someone it is embarrassing to have them open the door and see you with your nose in the corner and only panties covering your ass. He didn’t say anything, just lifted the heavy chair and carried it to the center of the room where there would be plenty of room for both of us. Then he stopped by vanity and retrieved my brush on his way to retrieve me. He took me gently by the wrist and walked us over to the chair. I studied the carpet. He gently lifted my chin with his knuckle until our eyes met. His look had softened - his eyes had released the anger they’d had when he first discovered my misbehavior. I knew not to misread that softening as a lack of resolve. He placed his wrists on my shoulders. Our eyes were only inches apart and he maintained his stare into mine. I looked away first but then came back to him. “Why Kimberly? Why?” I shrugged, the weight of his arms impeding my movement.

“I don’t know. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“You weren’t thinking or you didn’t think I’d find out?”

“I don’t know. Both?”

“I don’t know either. But I do know what I have to do.” He sighed again and sat in the chair. He motioned for me to stand on his right side. “We’ve discussed this over and over and once I decided the discussions weren’t enough I spanked you. Now apparently that little panty warming I gave you wasn’t enough to deter this misbehavior.” My cheeks clenched of their own volition when he mentioned the ‘panty warming’ ‘panty inferno’ was a more apt description. “Apparently firmer methods are required.” He looked at the brush then back up at me. “Take off your panties.” If having your lover see your pantied bottom is embarrassing, stripping your underwear in front of him is unbearable. My hands trembled as I reached for the waistband. I squeezed my eyes shut as I lifted one leg and then the other to step out of them. I kept my eyes shut as I tossed them on the bed. My body was bare from my hips down. “Kimberly, take a deep breath.” I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth as he’d taught me. “Again.” I repeated the process and I actually felt a bit calmer. “Kimberly, get over my knee.” I lowered myself across his lap. His feet were planted on the floor, his posture was erect, his back not even touching the chair. He maneuvered me into the correct position, my hips on his right thigh, my ass hanging off the side of his lap, my toes on the floor, my eyes staring down at the carpet. He wrapped his left arm around my bare waist holding me in position. He rested the cool wood of the hairbrush low on my right cheek. “Take one more breath Kim.” I noted his use of the shorter, more affectionate form of my name. I knew he wasn’t mad, he was doing his duty. As I finished exhaling I felt the brush rise from my bottom and then felt the shock of its impact where it had just been resting. I didn't scream, I just gasped refilling my lungs. The next spank landed in the same area but on my left cheek. This spank elicited a loud “Ow!” from my refilled lungs. He continued alternating the spanks between cheeks moving a little higher or a little lower until I had a hot, sore spot on each half of my ass. Despite his clinch I had managed to squirm a little out of the ideal position. He paused to adjust me. The break between blows led to a throbbing in my wounded bottom. I imagined I could feel my pulse in each cheek and each beat of my heart hurt.

“OK. Here we go.” Instead of alternating the spanking between my cheeks he spanked each cheek repeatedly in basically the same spot three, four or five spanks in a row. I held out for a few of these rounds “Oohing and ouching, kicking and squirming but not crying.” Finally I reached my breaking point and tears fell. Next I started sobbing and my body went limp on his lap. He didn’t stop immediately. He slowed his pace and went back to switching sides after each spank but he continued the punishment as I cried. He delivered a few spanks at the top of each thigh extending the burn from my ass to the backs of my legs. Then it was over. He placed the brush on the floor and rubbed my back. “There you go Kim, your spanking is finished.” He ran his fingers up my legs and over my ass. “Yes, it is nice and hot.” He patted my bottom with his hand. “Up you go.” He supported me with his hands on my waist as I got my feet under me. I knew better than to rub my injured derriere and I followed his gaze as he stared at the corner. I returned to the corner but this time rested my head in its angle and finished crying. He came behind me and handed me some tissues. I blew my nose and stood up straighter. He placed a hand on my shoulder and kissed the top of my head. “OK honey. Stand there and think about it for a few minutes. Let the ache in your ass sink in. The next time you think about misbehaving I hope your seat sends a message to your brain and you think better of it. When the bell rings you can brush your teeth and go to bed.” I heard the ratchet of the old fashioned kitchen timer. He could have used his phone but the ticking of the timer engaged still another of my senses and focused my attention on the consequences of my misbehavior. My sight was restricted to the walls converging, my ass simultaneously burned, ached and throbbed, the only sound I could hear was the metronome of the timer. All I could do was stand there and think.

The bell rang. I walked stiff-legged to the bathroom, brushed my teeth and looked over my shoulder at the full length mirror to survey the damage. I was a deep red from the top of my thighs to the lower third of my ass. I ran my fingers over it and felt the heat radiating from it. The skin felt tight and tender. I cupped each cheek and squeezed. It hurt but in a better way - like sticking your tongue into the gum where a recently fallen tooth had resided. I washed my face and blew my nose. I reached back and gave each cheek a final squeeze. I returned to the bedroom and put the chair back in its place. I picked my panties off the floor, put them in the hamper and donned a fresh pair, wincing as the fabric grazed my chastised skin. I retrieved the brush from the bed. I tested its heft. I ran my fingers across the wood back and was surprised and disappointed it had cooled back to room temperature. I thought my butt would have had some lasting impression on the brush. I placed it back on the vanity and crawled between the cool sheets laying on my side. I could still feel my pulse in my buttocks and I winced whenever my backside brushed the cheeks..

Finally he came to bed. Kissed me and held me tight as we drifted off to sleep.